


catalyst

by anastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, Frottage, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Touch-Starved Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 07:57:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7968634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anastiel/pseuds/anastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all starts with an innocent gesture; the briefest dance of Cas’ fingertips across Dean’s palm as Cas walks past Dean in the kitchen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	catalyst

Dean’s carefully built walls come crashing down one morning in late September. It all starts with an innocent gesture; the briefest dance of Cas’ fingertips across Dean’s palm as Cas walks past Dean in the kitchen. He’s headed towards the coffee maker wearing a pair of Dean’s sweatpants low on his hips, and one of Dean’s old Zeppelin t-shirts clinging tight to his chest. A low burn of warmth spreads from Dean’s palm up his arm, to his shoulder, dripping down, and sets fire to the cold, aching hole inside his chest. He sucks in a stuttered breath, knees weak, and gazes after Cas, who continues on his merry way to caffeine as if an inconsequential touch didn’t just make Dean practically melt into the floor.

Frozen, despite the heat continuing to bloom in his chest, Dean watches as Cas fills a mug with steaming coffee, and sucks down a gulp. He peers at Dean over the rim, smiling softly.

“Morning,” Cas says. His eyes are bright, sparkling in the light above him and it’s all Dean can do to not sigh like one of those wanton heroines in a romance novel. 

“Hey,” Dean replies, a little cautious, a little breathless, and he finally moves taking two steps forward heading towards the cupboards or Cas he isn’t sure. He pauses a foot away from Cas, resting his hip on the counter, gazing unabashedly at him. The need for coffee thrums in his head, but he’s frozen again, trapped within the soft expression radiating out of Cas’ eyes. This isn’t new, just  _ more.  _ Dean’s always gotten a little lost when looking into Cas’ eyes. Cas moves for him, reaching up into the cupboard and pulling down a mug, pouring coffee into it with finesse. He sprinkles sugar into the mug, and swirls a bit of cream in and then, wordlessly, hands the mug to Dean. The pads of Cas’ fingers brush against his during the transfer, and immediately Dean’s brain supplies him with an image of those same fingers sliding down his cheek, delicately cupping his face, stroking down his chest, over his nipples, and trailing further down until -- 

Dean almost drops the mug on the ground, but moves his arm to the side at the last second to place it on the counter. 

“Thanks,” Dean mutters, his heart sputtering in his chest as he tries to recover.

Cas offers him a soft smile, “You’re welcome,” He pauses for a moment, seemingly unaware that Dean is falling apart right in front of him, and then asks, “Do you have any plans for today?”

Dean shakes his head, “Nah, Sam is gonna look for a case. I might go on a supply run later. Why?” 

Cas shrugs, a small little motion, “I just thought you’d might like to help me in the garden.”

A smile sneaks its way onto Dean’s face at Cas’ request, the domesticity of it. Flashes of waking up to blinking blue eyes, and a deep, gravel voice saying his name dance behind his eyelids; of two warm arms wrapped around him, and soft lips kissing the nape of his neck. The bed turns into the kitchen, turns into dreams Dean’s had of kissing the taste of coffee out of Cas’ mouth, pressing against him until they’re pressed together against the counter, and when they finally separate the coffee is cold. He wants Cas’ hands to leave marks on his hips, on his chest, wherever he can get them. He want to kiss Cas until neither of them can breathe. He wants to feel Cas fuck him, to be inside him, and hold him while he does. He wants to wake up next to Cas every day for the rest of his goddamn life. 

He’s done stopping himself from going after what he wants. He’s done pretending like being Cas’ best friend is enough. 

“Dean?” Cas asks, head tilted in that adorable way he used to do all the time as an angel. Dean can only imagine the myriad of emotions flashing across his own face right now. “Are you alright?” Cas asks, eyebrows scrunching together in confusion, worry tinting his voice. 

Dean sets his mug down on the counter, sucks in a breath, and takes a step forward into Cas’ space. He doesn’t answer with words, he’s not sure he could. Instead, Dean gently takes the mug out of Cas’ hand, placing it on the counter, and fills the now empty space in Cas’ hand with his. Cas twines his fingers in-between Dean’s not even questioning Dean’s movement, only staring at him, blue eyes patient; waiting. He’s been waiting for so long. Too long. 

Dean pauses momentarily to take in the sight of Cas’ face before him, the soft tilt up of his mouth, eyes filled with complete adoration. Dean’s never wanted to kiss him more than he does right now. Moving on autopilot, he takes a half step forward until their foreheads are pressed together, noses bumping.

Cas sighs his name, breathes it out like he’s finally coming home, and that’s all it takes. Dean closes the empty air between them, mouth meeting Cas’ in a butterfly soft kiss. He pulls away too soon, scared he might have just fucked up everything, but Cas pulls him back, fingers a warm weight on his hip. Cas grips him tight, pulling him forward until they’re pressed flush together and Dean’s mouth is on his again. Dean kisses desperately after being deprived for so long. He’s messy in his haste, accidentally biting down a little too hard on Cas’ bottom lip, but Cas doesn’t seem to mind. A low growl leaves his throat, and he steps closer, eagerly pressing Dean back against the counter, slipping one of his thighs between Dean’s legs. Dean gasps, pressing open-mouthed kisses along Cas’ chin, hands sliding down Cas’ chest to his waist. He pulls Cas as close as they can get without practically melding into one person, and grinds against him, sealing their mouths together. Cas groans into his mouth, and they work up a slow rhythm of rocking together. 

Everything feels like it’s going too fast, like they’re rushing this. But as Cas sucks a mark onto Dean’s collarbone, murmuring “beautiful,” against Dean’s skin, Dean realizes this is only the first time. They will have tomorrow, next year, and the next ten years after that to take things slow, to make love in the early mornings, late at night after hunts when all that matters is they are safe, and okay. At the thought of the future, Dean sobs against Cas’ shoulder sliding his hands fully around Cas, and trying to bury himself in the warmth surrounding him. 

Dean falls apart embarrassingly fast, and all it takes is the Cas gasping his name against the shell of his ear, and Dean’s coming in his boxers, cock sliding along next to Cas’. He whispers Cas’ name, a broken, barely uttered sound, said as he seals his mouth against Cas’, licking the coffee taste out of his mouth. Cas follows soon after, hips stuttering against Dean’s, and he pulls off Dean’s mouth, dropping his head to Dean’s chest, gasping Dean’s name against his skin as he comes. 

They come down, breathing together; Cas’ mouth on Dean’s collarbone and Dean’s face buried in the mess of Cas’ hair. Eventually, Cas lifts his head and brings one of his hands to Dean’s face stroking the dash of freckles across his cheek with his palm.

“This is not how I expected this morning to go,” Cas says, still a little breathless, fingertips tracing along the line of Dean’s jaw, “But I’m definitely not complaining.”

They’re still pressed up against the counter, not separating their bodies, even though they are both sticky and it’s starting to get uncomfortable. Dean doesn’t mind; not when Cas is staring at him like he’s the entire world wrapped into one person, reverently tracing the lines of Dean’s face with his fingers. 

Dean chuckles, raising his hand to brush it through Cas’ unruly hair, “I don't know what happened, you just touched me and I kinda fell apart.”

“I didn’t realize you were so easy,” Cas teases, pressing a kiss to the side of Dean’s mouth, fingers tracing down the line of Dean’s neck, coming to rest on his shoulder.

“I guess I am,” Dean says, finding Cas’ hand where it rests on his hip and covering it with his own. He doesn’t say that he’s never felt this way about anyone before; never been so stupidly in love with anyone like this. Only Cas. He doesn’t need to, not really, Cas knows. 

Cas’ lips melt into a soft smile, and then they’re kissing again. It’s slow this time, not fraught with desperation as the first was. Dean’s need for Cas has settled to a low burn in his stomach -- now that he’s finally tasted what he’d been missing he’s content on taking his time. 

He does have the rest of his life to love Cas, he can afford to take his time. 


End file.
